


Winter's Tide

by writerfan2013



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: General attempts at being poetic, M/M, Purple Prose, Winter's tide, because I felt like it, understated romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerfan2013/pseuds/writerfan2013
Summary: Merlin stands alone at the edge of a pale world. He is waiting for the tide, the tide which will mend his sorrow. Gentle merthur. My first fic in ages, hope you like it. Let me know! -Sef





	1. Chapter 1

His horse's breath clouded the dawn air, white on a white field. The white sky showed a narrow band of rose above the hills, the landscape's only colour. The ground glared white with frost, crunching under hooves and boots. And white rimed every branch, ice on black, though nothing could be as black as Arthur's heart.

 

"You would leave," he'd said, the day before. He stood. Beside him, at the Round Table, Merlin was already on his feet.

 

"Yes," said Merlin, in council, in sight of everyone, every knight, every lady. In the grey light from a winter window, his hair was as black as a vole's coat, his eyes the colour of the slate on a rainy mountainside. 

 

Arthur had fallen back on anger, on the power to command. "You can't. You're my servant."

 

"I serve Camelot," said Merlin, his eyes mild. "And Camelot needs me to go."

 

"How d'you work that out?" demanded the King, slamming his hand on the great circle of the council table. 

 

Merlin ducked his head and said nothing.

 

The knights shuffled and exchanged glances. It was not uncommon for the King to argue with his trusted advisor, his friend and confidante, the sorcerer Merlin. But those debates happened in private, when the two were out hunting, or in the King's chambers at morning or night. Here in council - what was this?

 

"I forbid it," said Arthur.

 

Merlin lifted his head and met the King's gaze, and the two stared at one another until Merlin, his mouth squeezed shut, turned away, and strode from the chamber.

 

***

 

Merlin leaned his cheek on his horse's neck, breathing in the warmth rising from the beast's black coat. "Will you carry me?" he asked, for he had been raised to respect all living things. Even the tree must give of its wood, or it will resist the axe. Even the hog, and the hare, deserve asking to the pot.

 

The black horse twisted its head round to butt Merlin affectionately. Merlin laughed, and patted it, and sprang into the saddle. "Come on then. And be swift, or Arthur will come after us."


	2. Chapter 2

"Merlin!"

 

A strange silence met Arthur's bellow. 

 

"Merlin!"

 

Arthur rose, the chair scraping on his chamber's stone floor. Merlin ought to be here, carrying a tray of Arthur's lunch, and unsubtly rolling his eyes because Arthur insisted that nobody but Merlin should bring him food.

 

Arthur flung open his chamber door, startling the hall guards. "Where's Merlin?"

 

"Sorry sire, he's not here."

 

"I can see that! Where is he? Find him!"

 

Arthur slammed the door again. He thought back to the council meeting. Surely Merlin was not going to be a fool about that. Leave Camelot? Ridiculous. After all that time concealing his magic, helping the kingdom in secret, why would Merlin stop, now that his secret was out?

 

Arthur picked up his red cloak, where it lay over the end of his bed. Merlin had placed it there after breakfast.

 

That was odd, now Arthur came to think of it. The cloak should hang in the wardrobe, not over the bed.

 

"Typical," said Arthur, but it wasn't. He frowned. "Oh-"

 

On the bed, previously hidden by the cloak, lay a letter, a single sheet of paper, folded, and inscribed in Merlin's flowing script: _Arthur, King of Camelot._

 

***

 

It was stupid to leave a note, stupid to write down things you were too cowardly to say to someone's face, stupid to give any hint at all of your plans. But Merlin's heart was too full to leave without a farewell, and anyway, he had hardly said anything, certainly nothing that Arthur, who was blessed with a literal mind, would understand.

 

Merlin, stamping his feet to get the warmth back into them, smiled. He pictured the King, raking his hands through his golden hair in frustration at Merlin's inconvenient absence. He would yell for Merlin, and when there was no reply, he would thrash about, and find the note. And then he would be cross.

 

Merlin grimaced, for Arthur, furious, was Arthur at his most essential: strong, sure, eager to act. Merlin loved the King in all things, but in anger Arthur was irresistible.  Never a man for displays of emotion, fury was almost his only outlet, and he did it well. Merlin pictured his friend pacing the council chamber, gloved fist pounding gloved palm, red shirt billowing. Or rather, it was cold: Arthur would have his red jacket.

 

Merlin sighed.

 

It was fine. Arthur would find the note, rage for a while, and probably hunt in the wrong direction. Then he would find someone else to bring him dinner.

 

Someone like Gwen, for example, who clearly loved the King, and who was loved, in return, by everybody. Arthur never snapped at Gwen, had even been known to say please and thank you to her. The people would be pleased by any match for their young King, but especially if the match was with someone who had served the King and kingdom so loyally and so long.

 

Yes, Arthur would read the note, be irritated, and demand that Gwen bring him lunch. Merlin could continue to his assignation at Midsea with an easy heart.

 

"Come on," he said to the horse, "you've eaten enough. If you keep making us stop for food and rest, we'll never get there."

 

The beast nudged Merlin, then stepped back to gaze at him with mournful eyes.

 

"I'm all right," said Merlin.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

"All right, where's Midsea?" said Arthur, who had instantly worked out Merlin's obscure references and come to see Gaius.

 

"Midsea, oh dear, that's bad, sire, very bad," said Gaius. "Would you pass me that almanac?"

 

Arthur complied, for Gaius was old and frail, and Merlin's uncle.

 

"Let me see. Ah. Yes." Gaius angled the book so that Arthur could see the map and its notes. Gaius read aloud. "At Midsea, at the turn of the year, a great tide washes in, seeking folk whose task in the world of men is done. Its influence is felt throughout the land, as winter's cold takes those not meant for this world..." Gaius coughed. "People seeking absolution for crimes and deceptions, betrayals and impurities, may stand on the shore at Midsea and be cleansed. Winter's Tide refreshes the land and clears the way for new growth in the spring."

 

"Cleansed," said Arthur. "Is that a euphemism for killed?"

 

"Yes, sire."

 

"But why would Merlin -"

 

Gaius coughed again, a hacking, choking noise. Arthur jumped up, and poured him a cup of water,  and held it while he drank.  

 

"I don't see why," Arthur began again, and stopped.

 

Gaius was looking seriously at him.

 

"Deceptions," said Arthur. 

 

Gaius sipped water, keeping his eye on the King.

 

"Impurities," Arthur whispered.

 

Gaius grimaced.

 

Arthur sprang up. "Great Tree! I must find him!"

 

He whirled away, and Gaius smiled. He closed the book, and began coughing again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Merlin unstrapped his bag, and magical staff, from the horse. The sea breeze lifted his hair. "You stay here," he told it. "Don't want you getting washed away."

 

The animal whinnied and stamped.

 

"If Arthur does come," said Merlin, "go back with him. If he doesn't, go with the first kind person who's heading towards Camelot.

 

"Arthur won't come," he added. "I irritated him too much."

 

It was too dangerous here for a King, especially a King without an heir. Merlin had told Arthur often that Arthur needed to marry. The kingdom might be at peace but that did not mean Arthur was free to dither about not choosing a wife, and going on to Merlin about how he was fine being single, even though he obviously was not.

 

That was a row they'd had many times.

 

"If you're so desperate for a wedding, _you_ get married," Arthur said. It was the last argument, the one by candlelight, in Arthur's chambers, at night after too much winter wine, and Merlin had started the subject.

 

"I don't want to," Merlin said.

 

"Well there you are. Cuts both ways, doesn't it?"

 

"I'm not the king! It doesn't matter if I don't marry!" He was on his feet, the wine cup forgotten.

 

"What about your powers? Your sorcery?" Arthur squirmed a little, for it was an intimate subject. "Don't you want your bloodline to go on?"

 

"I don't see how it can,' said Merlin.

 

"Well," said Arthur. He, too, rose, and carried his cup to the window. Outside, Camelot was full of nighttime sounds -  trees rustling and owl hoots, and the noise of the guards' footsteps. Arthur turned to Merlin, who stood kicking the table leg behind him. "A wedding would be a start."

 

"I could say the same to you!"

 

"There's plenty of time." Arthur tossed back some wine. A little dribbled down his chin, and he dashed it away with his wrist.

 

"What if there's not? What if you fell off your horse tomorrow?" Merlin frowned at the venue, and the chin.

 

"You'd heal me."

 

"What if I couldn't?"

 

Arthur scoffed. "Of course you could. You can do anything."

 

That silenced Merlin, and ended that particular row.

 

Merlin sighed, now, and watched his breath float away in the frigid air. Here the breeze was relentless, and gritty with salt. A shallow cliff stretched down, step by shale step, to a rocky shore. The land here simply flattened, crouched, and lowered itself into the sea. A man might walk far out to the rolling breakers, and stand waiting for Winter's Tide.

 

Merlin patted the black horse farewell, and began the descent.

 

* * *

 

 

The pale sun blurred into the pale sky, and the sky merged with the bright sea. All was white and cold.

 

Merlin was alone on the glaring shore. He was not surprised. He was early.

 

It had taken him an hour to pick his way over the dun-coloured rocks, to the sea itself. He edged to the very last dry rock, a platform jutting over the roiling white froth, and raised his staff. "Midsea," he said. "Winter's Tide. I call you!"

 

The diamond sea glittered from his boots to the horizon, but made no reply. In the old tongue he called, "Sæflôd, wiðstandan winterlic, ic pro cêapung wið êow!"

 

"Merlin wait!"

 

On the horizon, a grey line was thickening, rising and drawing towards the shore. Merlin swung round and saw Arthur, sword in hand, loping across the treacherous rocks towards him. "No!"

 

He glanced at the sea. The tide, the black tide which would sweep its chosen ones to the white sea, was advancing.

 

"Stop! Stay back!"

 

Of course Arthur ignored this. He could be commanded by nobody, least of all Merlin .

 

Merlin raised his staff. "Stop!"

 

He really did not want to enchant Arthur, but if Arthur came closer he would be in great danger.

 

Arthur stopped.

 

Merlin cast an eye at the tide, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them once again and began picking his way towards Arthur. 


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as he was close enough, Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm in a fierce clench. "What do you think you're doing? Gaius told me about this tide."

"Then you shouldn't be here! If it comes in we'll both be killed."

They watched the dark line on the horizon.

"I need to work," said Merlin.

"You need to come with me," said Arthur.

"You don't understand."

"I must certainly do and I forbid it." He frowned in irritation. He'd forbidden it the day before as well, and that hadn't stopped Merlin for one moment.

He tried a different tack. "Please."

Merlin shook his head. His lips were white.

"Don't do it," said Arthur. "I won't let you punish yourself for... Why are you punishing yourself?"

Merlin sighed, and glanced at the sea. "I'm not. We need to move."

"Why?" Arthur insisted.

The water surged towards them. Merlin saw horses leading the charge, their nostrils flaring, their coats pure white.

Arthur saw them too, and swallowed. But his nerve was strong. "Tell me."

"Gaius," said Merlin. He grasped Arthur's hand. "Now - jump!"

He raised his staff, and with a word, lifted himself, and Arthur, into the air. Arthur cried out, but the staff powered upwards, dragging Merlin with it, and Arthur, his hand in Merlin's strong grip.

Below, the world roared white fury. Rocks churned into the foam, and all that the tide touched, was swallowed. Arthur watched horses trampling water-fields, and saw other creatures too, forms like men at the plough, women with spindle or a swaddled babe. Some shapes Arthur could not have named, for they were only suggestions of life - an eye, opening through the surf, or a sudden gape of jaws. Monstrous ideas thrashed beneath the surface of the tide.

"Good god," said Arthur, and looked to Merlin, but Merlin had closed his eyes.

Still they soared, and Arthur, king of many battles on land, became afraid. It wasn't natural to be in the sky. "Merlin. Merlin!"

Merlin was still clenching shut his eyes. Arthur saw the glint of tears on his friend's cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

"The tide is falling," said Merlin, although he could not have seen. He lowered the staff, wrenching it downwards like a soldier struggling with a drawbridge. Arthur's stomach lurched, and dropped, and so did Arthur.

In moments, they were on land again, standing in soaked grass above the beach. The world was still as birds and beasts shivered in silence, far away from the magical flood.

Merlin's eyes were wet.

"What is it," said Arthur, embarrassed.

"Gaius," Merlin said again. "I didn't save him. And the tide will answer me but once a year."

Arthur floundered. Deception, and regret - or not those reasons at all. When had Merlin ever been ashamed of who he was? "You did this... for your uncle."

"He's ill."

"He's old," said Arthur.

Merlin went white. He clutched the staff and said, "Shut up."

"I'm sorry. But he is."

"He is my only family! I can't let him die!"

"Don't be bloody ridiculous! Swapping your life for his, that's not what he wants! He's an old man, he knows he can't have long -"

Merlin swung his fist and caught Arthur a sharp blow to the jaw.

Arthur sprawled on the ground, from shock as much as from Merlin's knuckles connecting with his face.

"Not one word," said Merlin, pointing the staff at Arthur. "Not one!"

Arthur thought of reminding Merlin who was king, but the look in Merlin's eyes told him no.

"Camelot needs Gaius," said Merlin.

"It needs you," Arthur said. "I need you."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ha."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Arthur.

"It means, ha. You don't need me. You'll have a wedding, and a wife, and a ... family."

"Of course I need you!"

"Not the way I want," said Merlin, and there it was, this thing they had been ignoring for years, this stupid argument that neither could win.

Arthur took a breath. Merlin's eyes flared, but instead of magical gold, they were only blue, swirling with patterns of reflected sea and sky. "I know," Arthur said.

They gazed at each other, frozen, caught in the clench of things unsaid.

Arthur whetted his lips. Words stumbled on his tongue.

Hen's teeth, this stuff was awkward. Not as awkward as the first moment Arthur had caught himself, watching Merlin's hands on the wine jug. The slender fingers, the dark hair on Merlin's wrist - the sight of it had struck Arthur like a blow, like a kick in the gut. At first he was horrified: this would basically ruin his whole life, as well as condemning him in the next life - but as months passed, and then years, he knew that this thing, this urge, was only a part of him, not the whole. He was still a prince - and then a king - and still a warrior, a leader of men, a councillor and a comrade. That he stood watching as his sorcerer soothed an injured horse with words and touches, or crumbled sacred petals into an offering bowl... It did not diminish him.

"What would you do, if not marry?" Merlin asked.

"What Gaius did," said Arthur.

"What?"

"You're his heir," Arthur said. "You're not his son, but you were his apprentice, he chose you to carry on his work. That's what I'll do. Choose some promising youngster - or two - adopt them, bring them up as my heirs."

"That's a very risky strategy. The Round Table -"

"The Round Table will be so relieved I've done something about succession that they'll probably throw a massive feast."

"Huh."

"You should do the same," Arthur said. "Name an heir. Who's your apprentice?"

"Nobody," said Merlin in surprise.

"Well, that's got to change. What about the druids, they're bound to have sorcerer children, pick one of them."

"They're not apples," said Merlin.

"You know what I mean."

"But Gaius -"

Arthur stepped forward and drew his arms around Merlin's shoulders. "What must happen, must happen," he said. He pulled Merlin to him, for comfort, Merlin resisting a little and then collapsing, his chin against Arthur's ear, his breath a muddle of sobs and gasps.

Arthur bashed Merlin on the back a few times. "Get a grip," he muttered, but in fact this was all right: the embrace, the closeness, it was not as strange as he'd imagined. Merlin shivered once, recovering, and lay one hand deliberately on the back of Arthur's neck... That was all right too.

"No offering for the tide today," said Merlin, drawing away.

"Nope. Doesn't look like it."

They began squelching back inland. Soon their boots met frost, the season's defiance of the sun.

"Midwinter," said Arthur."Time to think about spring. The worst of the darkness has passed," he added, in case Merlin had not yet fully grasped it.

"I know what day it is," said Merlin.

He whistled and his black horse cantered up. Arthur's had vanished, spooked by the flood. "Will you take us both?" said Merlin. The horse tilted its neck for Merlin's caress. "He will," said Merlin to Arthur.

"I'll obviously ride in front," said Arthur.

"It's my horse."

"It's the second best horse in the stable!"

"Don't let him hear you say that. I'll go in front."

"So undignified."

"Yeah, not like having to be rescued because you stood there quizzing me while a massive wave rolled in."

Merlin rode in front. The horse walked on, adjusting to the extra weight.

Merlin, the reins loose in his left hand, reached around with his right and found Arthur's glove. Without asking permission, he drew off the glove and placed Arthur's hand on his leg.

Arthur said nothing, just sat there, wary.

"You started it," said Merlin.

"No, you did, with your ..."

"My-?"

"Self."

Merlin laughed.

"Shut up."

"There's snow on the way," said Merlin, nodding at the eastern sky. "Better get home."

"When people see us arriving like this -"

"The old religion does not forbid it."

"The new one does and I have to please both. Oh, god."

"A king can please himself."

"I'm not sure that's true."

They rode. Around them, the world shrugged off its pallor as the sun climbed. Colour showed among the birches, a faint purple on each twig, the promise of spring.

Arthur turned back to see the ocean. The water glinted, its milky surface shimmering into steady blue. The colour of Merlin's eyes, thought Arthur, and grimaced at that sentimental thought.

"What?" asked Merlin.

"Nothing. Tide's coming in. The ordinary tide." He squinted twisting his neck round. "Just slowly, but you can see the change of colour in the shoreline. It's very gradual."

Merlin did not look, but he smiled, and gripped Arthur's knee. "Yes, it is."

They rode on, their cloaks bright in the morning air.


End file.
